To avoid further conversation, she smiled and left the kitchen, heading to the foyer. She stopped to grab a jacket, then stepped outside, shivering at the icy touch of the wind. Eli helped fix this porch. He sanded these boards. Applied the weatherproofing and the stain.
OMG, stop, you’re doing it again.
Zipping her hoodie, she went down the steps, now firm and sturdy, thanks to Eli and Henry Dale. As for Violet Gables, the house was like an aging actress with her makeup smeared. Iris could picture what it would look like if it was glorious, riotously purple—no, violet, just gleaming with color—but she didn’t have the magic to make it happen.
Yet that didn’t stop her from focusing all her anger, all her despair on the house. Iris closed her eyes and locked onto the word violet. V I O L E T. The letters danced in her head, spinning into flowers. Oh, African violets, how pretty, with their dainty little petals, and she fell into a field of them.
House.
Field.
Violet.
Violet Gables.
There was a snap or a spark, and she felt the world as she never had before. There were connections everywhere, and it seemed impossible that she’d never sensed them. Power surged through her as if she’d grabbed on to an electrical line. She felt like a dolphin skimming along the waves, singing with every other dolphin in existence. And in that dazzling brightness, she heard whispers and the lightest touch.
Ah. Yes. There you are, precious blossom.
Not her thought—someone else’s—but then they vanished in the swirling stream. The universe in her head receded, leaving her dazed and disconnected. When she opened her eyes, she stumbled backward and fell down, gaping at what she saw. The stately old matron, this Victorian oddity, was festooned in violets, a field of them growing sideways, impossibly, all over the house. No soil. No explanation, just…violets. They rioted with life and color—magical, beautiful, and incomprehensible.
She sat in the yard, staring up at the miracle that had appeared…like a sign, almost. When she’d nearly given in to despair, the world rose up to meet her, and it was as if the house crooned, “Yes, this is right. I’m beautiful again.”
“I really am fae,” Iris whispered.
Instinctively, she knew. She didn’t need a spell or other casters. Witches use magic. The fae are magic. That wisdom felt very old, and it tasted true on her tongue, a thing where she didn’t understand the knowing, but the fact remained. This is my home, my land, and I have power here. Another truth, indisputable. Her environment would bend to her will.
Mira pulled into the driveway as Iris gazed fondly at the miracle she’d wrought. The witch gaped at the house, glancing from it to Iris and back again. “Uh, something you’d like to tell me?”
“I don’t need a spell,” Iris said.
The woman eyed her warily. “I can see that. Your power’s awakened then?”
“Seems so.”
Another sidelong look from Mira. “What can you do?”
“Not sure. I can’t feel the cars parked on the streets or other machines—like lawn mowers—at all, but things that were alive like the wood on the house? It’s mine to shape.”
“A little like vivimancers, then,” Mira mused. “Maybe they came from the fae?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I only found out who I am a little while ago.”
Rowan popped out of the house to see what was up, and they too stared in wonder at Violet Gables. “Is…is this real? I’m not hallucinating, right?”
“No, we have a garden growing up the front of the house.” After pacing twenty steps to the right, Mira added, “Oh, it’s all over. I can’t wait for the press to get hold of this.”
“That cranky lady next door will be so pissed,” Rowan predicted.
Iris allowed herself a faint smile as the faint fragrance of violets wafted on the autumn breeze. “I hope so. Because I’m just getting started.”
* * *
Eli didn’t leave town.
He could have, easily. And probably, he should have.
But instead, he spent the night in an expressway hotel; then the next day, he rented a studio apartment on a vacation rental site. It was an adequate space over a garage, and he didn’t interact with the people in the main house at all. Instead, he received a code allowing him to let himself in using a separate entrance. At this point, Eli didn’t even understand himself, so of course Iris thought the worst of his motives.
In hindsight, he shouldn’t have panicked and gone around her. He owed her so many apologies that he could deliver one daily for the next two months and it still wouldn’t be enough. Maybe that was why he couldn’t cut his losses and move on. Sighing, he set his suitcase in the small bedroom and wandered out to the equally efficient living space.
Ironically, he’d just unpacked his bags, finally feeling comfortable about his place at Violet Gables. Hell, he’d started feeling like he belonged. But before he could get cozy in the hole he’d dug, his phone rang.
Caller ID said it was Henry Dale, and that made him feel a bit better. At least the rest of his housemates—former housemates—didn’t hate him. “What’s up?”
“Where are you staying?” Henry Dale asked without preamble.
“What?”
The older man made a skeptical sound. “You didn’t expect any of us to believe you suddenly flew to Albuquerque, right? We pretended to because otherwise it would’ve been awkward, but you were heartbroken when you left, son. Not worried. As you would’ve been, had your grandmother actually needed you to make an urgent trip.”
“Oh. You truly are a student of human nature, aren’t you?” It was humbling how happy Eli felt over Henry Dale checking in like this.
“I’ve learned to read people over the years. I don’t always care how they’re feeling, but I usually know. And sometimes I act like I don’t because I’d rather not pussyfoot around. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Uh, I rented a place. You’re right, I just couldn’t…walk away. Not yet. Not if there’s a chance she’ll eventually forgive me.”
“Well, put a pin in that because you wouldn’t believe what’s going on here.”
“Iris is burning effigies of me in the backyard?” he guessed.
Henry Dale laughed. “Dial back the self-absorption. It’s… Actually, why don’t you come pick me up? I heard you’re rich, so you can buy me lunch, and I won’t need to explain as much if you witness this with your own eyes. I’ve seen some stuff over the years, but nothing like this.”
Despite Eli’s grim mood, he started feeling intrigued by whatever had Henry Dale so lost for words. “Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Should we hit Bev’s?”
The answer came in a cheerful tone. Well, as cheerful as Henry Dale ever got. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m craving a burger with fries and the big pickle on the side.”
Just as he was about to hang up, he realized something important. “This isn’t just about what’s happening at the house, is it?”
“Of course not. I miss you.” Henry Dale said it quickly, as if he might be arrested for possessing human emotions.